


port in the storm

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (but Phil Coulson has a new favorite super hero), F/M, Fluff, POV Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson loves Daisy Johnson, Sam Wilson/Steve Rogers - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Skoulson - Freeform, Steve Rogers isn't really a fan of Phil Coulson, Superhero Registration Act, The Retreat, no real plot, sam wilson is not a matchmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6277753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam & Steve (established relationship) run into Daisy & Phil at the retreat while on the run post-registration, and end up enjoying the ability to spend a few days out of the storm. Mostly Sam being amused by Daisy & Phil, and also making out with Steve. What is plot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	port in the storm

He and Steve have been on the run for two months when they make their way to The Retreat. 

They can’t count on it as safe, not when they’re running from SHIELD itself, but they’ve long since figured out that SHIELD has been much too busy with their own agenda to monitor all their safehouses. Still, they stake out the property, careful as they approach the spot where the electrified fence used to be, where Steve knows cameras once stood, and everything seems safe. 

He's excited, if he's honest, at the prospect of a real house, some real amenities, for a few days. As they walk towards the front door with a bag full of groceries and an overnight bag, everything is clear, and Sam has a good feeling, almost like he's on shore leave, like the storm raging outside can't follow them here.

Which is why it’s a shock when Steve opens the front door for him and is immediately flung backwards. 

Before Sam can even reach for his gun, though, he hears a female voice gasp. 

“Tell me I didn’t just throw Captain America out the front door.” 

“Keep the shield up,” a male voice replies, and then a pair — a woman of maybe thirty and an older man, maybe fifty — walk outside together. 

“Stop right there,” Sam threatens them as he steps back to Steve’s side. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” the woman claims, looking very earnest about it. “We thought you were here to collect us.” 

Steve sits up, looking none the worse for wear, and diffuses the situation as he takes in the older man. 

“Agent Coulson. I’d heard you were alive and well. Another lie SHIELD told.” 

“I didn’t have much say in that lie, if that matters.” 

Steve nods, but his expression stays pretty grim. The woman looks like she understands what’s going on, and, well, Sam is really bad at not knowing what’s going on and really good at breaking the ice.

“Someone want to fill me in?” 

 

* * *

 

 

Agents Coulson and Johnson have been at The Retreat for three days, she tells them, and on the run for five weeks before that. There are just a few signs of life — coffee mugs by the sink, a book and a tablet propped on the coffee table— but mostly it looks like they’re ready to run at any moment. 

“My team split up when SHIELD fell,” Agent Johnson says, perched on the arm of the couch beside Agent Coulson, and he and Steve look at each other. 

“We heard SHIELD was doing just fine.” 

Steve leans back in the chair adjacent to the couch, and Sam can feel how uncomfortable he is with doing an interrogation — because that’s clearly how he’s seeing it — with someone who’s sitting on higher ground.

Agent Johnson, though, seems to think she’s the one doing the interrogating. 

“That’s not SHIELD,” Agent Johnson cuts in fiercely. “That’s people the president planted there, and you’d know that if you actually cared enough about this fight to check.” 

“All of our team got out,” Agent Coulson adds, voice calm to contrast Agents Johnson’s anger. “We have one person left on the inside, feeding us information,” Coulson shares. 

Sam can see that Steve is skeptical. Since Peggy’s funeral he’s extra touchy about the disservices done to SHIELD, to her legacy. Since they heard about the reconstruction of SHIELD, something Steve was distinctly against, he's been angry about it. But Agent Johnson has a point — whatever Steve’s feelings about SHIELD, it’s never been a priority for him to see how it’s really being run.

“What that group has been doing,” Agent Johnson tells Steve, and Sam can see the fire in her eyes, “that’s not what SHIELD stands for.” 

“Which SHIELD, Agent Johnson? The one that spent the past year collecting powered people?” 

“We weren’t  _ collecting _ anyone. We were giving people a home. A chance to be themselves. A chance to make a difference, if they wanted to join my team.” 

Steve looks a little taken aback, but Sam is just watching them like it’s a tennis match, sees that Agent Coulson is doing the same.

“ _ Your _   team?” 

“My team,” she nods. “The ones who wanted to stay on, stayed on.”

“And the ones who didn’t?” 

“We have — we  _ had  _ — facilities to transition them, to get them used to their gifts so they wouldn’t accidentally hurt anyone.” 

“And the stories about powered people kept in boxes?” 

“Not SHIELD,” she states, though she throws a glance at Agent Coulson, who looks down to his lap — something between sad and guilty that Sam can’t quite place. Agent Johnson sets a soft hand on his shoulder, and he can see Agent Coulson relax a little bit at the touch. “That was a government group, taken over by Hydra.” 

“Malick,” Steve supplies, and Sam nods, finally feeling up to speed. He trusts her, trusts her story, and he can tell that Steve does, too, can see it in the way his shoulders drop, the way he relaxes for the first time since they left the SUV. 

Agent Coulson’s eyes are still pointed down to his lap, though, and Sam can’t help but watch him.

“Hey,” Agent Johnson whispers softly, something meant only for Coulson’s ears. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers, quiet and then louder. “I can make coffee?” Agent Coulson throws out the suggestion, like maybe he just wants an excuse to have a minute to himself.

“That’d be great,” Agent Johnson smiles at him as Sam nods. Steve, though, frowns. 

“None for me.” 

Agent Coulson looks strangely wounded by that, and Sam raises his eyebrows at Steve, who shrugs. 

He’s not sure whether to say anything, especially when Agent Johnson seems so fond of the man. But there are worse things, Sam figures, than being determined to dislike a well-meaning middle-aged white dude.

 

* * *

 

 

“They’re well-matched.” 

Coulson nods but doesn’t pull his gaze away from the window, and Sam can’t tell what the other man is seeing. He looks like someone simultaneously proud and terrified, pleased and deeply sad.

Outside, Agent Johnson — Daisy — and Steve are sparring. Daisy made a joke about finally getting a good workout, but he thinks really they’re both working off some of the aggression left over from the earlier confrontation. 

She and Steve are pretty similar, he thinks. They both have some strong feelings about what SHIELD should be doing, but they also both know it’s best to work together. And, really, it’s clear they’re all on the same side.

Daisy throws Steve on his back, and Sam has to smile. She’s damn good.

He’s seen Tasha and Steve spar plenty, so it’s not like it’s a new thing to see Captain America getting his ass handed to him by a woman less than half his size. 

But it’s still pretty cool, he can admit it. It’s fun to watch.

It gets even cooler when she starts bringing her powers into play. She lifts her right hand, looking dramatic and regal, but he can’t tell that she does anything except that Steve falls on his ass.

Sam and Coulson watch as Steve stands up, shield in hand now, and spreads his arms in a taunt. 

(He almost can hear it, Steve’s  _ is that the best you’ve got _ _?_  It’s a big part how he’s gotten their new Avengers team working, made them confident in themselves and their abilities even when their abilities are terrifying. Except that’s past tense, now. There’s no Avengers team, anymore.)

“What does she do, exactly?” 

“I don’t fully understand it,” Coulson admits, like this is a regret of his, his inability to fully understand. “She says that everything vibrates, and if she concentrates she can make certain things vibrate more.”

“So just then, was she moving him or the air?” 

“The air, I think.”

“You make it sound like you’ve never really seen her in action.”

“I haven’t seen very much,” he admits. “I wasn’t in the field with her often, and she doesn’t get to spar with most humans, for obvious reasons.”

Coulson points out the window to where Steve is on the defensive, now, shield up to block what look like some kind of invisible blasts that are coming from her outstretched hand.

“Isn’t your hand made of the same stuff as his shield, though?” 

“Yeah,” Coulson agrees. 

And then, as if to make the point for him, Steve goes  _ flying _ across the field and smashes into a tree. 

He and Coulson freeze at the window as Daisy races across the field to help Steve up, and of course he rises easily, shaking it off even though the tree is nearly snapped in half. 

“Your girl is  _ powerful _ ,” Sam breathes. Wanda is powerful, too, but in a way that messes with your head as much as knocks you on your ass. Daisy is something different, he thinks, raw destructive power, but channeled like he’s never seen before.

“Not my girl.” 

“Sure,” Sam laughs. “So you don’t spar with her?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “We tried a few times after I got this one,” he flexes his robotic fingers as he talks, “but it got too intense. She’s worried about doing  _ that _ to me.” Coulson points out to the tree, which they’ll probably need to take down before it falls. 

“It takes time to get used to it,” Sam sighs. “The idea that they could kill you without even meaning to.”  

Coulson looks surprised by that comment, but just stares out the window to where Daisy and Steve are back to hand to hand combat. 

This is where Steve has an advantage, and Sam can see Coulson tense as he watches — and then grin too widely when she busts out a jiu jitsu move, something like what Tasha does. Something like what Tasha does that Steve has never learned to properly counter.

They roll apart on the ground outside, both panting for breath, and he rarely sees Steve look so winded after a fight — with someone who isn’t an actual god or a robot, anyways.

“I taught her that.”

No wonder their sparring sessions got too intense, Sam thinks, if they were grappling like  _ that _ .

“I would have thought she trained with Romanoff,” Sam quips, and watches as the former Director of SHIELD blushes. 

“ _ I _ did. Back...before.” 

“That must have been something.” It’s hard to imagine it, if he’s being honest, that this guy is any kind of force to be reckoned with. But then, maybe there’s strength in that, in his seeming anonymity and his self-deprecating stance.

“I think she just liked beating me up,” Coulson jokes, and Sam grins at him before they turn their attention back to Daisy and Steve.

Daisy ends up getting up first, jumping up like she’s decades younger than Steve instead of a couple of years, and then holds out her hand, helps tug Steve up off the ground. 

She grins at the window, clearly aware that she’s being watched, and Coulson smiles back. Steve frowns, though. 

“He doesn’t like you,” Sam observes to Coulson. 

“Tell me about it.” 

“It’s not personal, I don’t think,” he offers, watching Coulson shrug. 

“I understand. He’s gone through the last year thinking SHIELD was supporting the Registration Act. Plus, the last time I met him, I was a really big fan. I don’t think he was amused.” 

Sam laughs. 

“He seems like he likes your girl; he’ll probably come around to you.” 

“Not my girl,” Coulson repeats.

“Sure.”

Steve and Daisy move towards the door, and he and Coulson break apart.

 

* * *

 

He and Coulson cook dinner together. Or rather, Sam finds himself sucked into Coulson’s cooking while Daisy showers and Steve pulls down the tree they half-destroyed. 

Sam  _ loves _ food, after all, loves to eat good food, which is something about himself he hadn’t realized until he left the service. Steve, though, would just as soon eat beans from a can over the sink as sit down for a nice meal. 

So it’s kind of nice to see Coulson in the kitchen prepping carrots and potatoes and onions to roast with three whole chickens. 

“That’s a lot of food,” he comments when he steps inside. 

“Daisy will need it after that workout.” 

“Yeah, Steve will, too.” 

“I figured,” Coulson nods, and Sam has to smile at someone else who understands superhuman metabolisms. He wonders if Daisy is the same as Steve that way — happy to eat whatever, as long as it gives her the calories she needs.

“Can I help?” 

There’s an awkwardness to it at first, like Coulson isn’t used to being around people, but they fall into an easy enough rhythm, chopping and seasoning vegetables. 

“I haven’t gotten to cook a real dinner in a long time,” Sam tells Coulson as he dumps his veggies into the large roasting pan. 

“Neither have I. Not much time for it when you’re running.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I always liked it, though.” 

“Always?” 

“Since my grandmother taught me.”

“That’s cute,” Sam tells him, kind of amused by Coulson’s shrug and half-smile. “I taught myself,” he shares. “Food never mattered to me, and then I joined the airforce.” 

“Nothing like losing something to make you appreciate what you had.” 

“You said it,” Sam agrees. 

Coulson swallows, like he’s nervous. 

“You served in Afghanistan?” 

“Pararescue,” Sam nods. “Two tours.”

“I’ve read your file,” Coulson blurts, like it’s a shameful admission, his cheeks a little pink. “I keep up on all the Avengers.” 

Sam smiles, actually pretty flattered that Coulson considers him as one of the Avengers given how short his tenure there was before it all came crashing down (most people don’t, he’s learned), but before he can reply, they’re interrupted by Daisy walking into the kitchen after her shower.

“Oh, real food?” Daisy’s obviously excited as she exaggeratedly sniffs the air, even though there’s nothing to smell yet except for the fresh rosemary Agent Coulson has conjured up from outside.

“We’ve been living on meal replacement bars,” Coulson shares with Sam as he turns around to greet Daisy, all scrubbed down with wet hair plastered to her head. “We just —” 

Agent Coulson goes silent as he looks at her where she lounges against the counter in a white tank top, plucking pieces of raw carrot off of a baking sheet. 

And she’s a beautiful woman, Sam has no problem seeing that, but the way Coulson’s struck dumb you’d think he’d never seen a woman before, let alone been on the run with Daisy for weeks.

“You okay Phil?” Daisy asks, mouth half-full of carrot, like she’s genuinely — obliviously — concerned about him. Coulson nods and swallows, and Sam’s pretty sure he’s never seen a more pathetic man in his entire life.

“We just went grocery shopping for the first time in, like, a month,” Daisy tells Sam, picking up where Coulson dropped off. “It’s been pretty grim, foodwise.” 

It’s been pretty grim  _ everything _ -wise, of course — probably for her, for the one who was born with something different in her DNA, more than any of them — but her smile is infectious. 

“I think Steve actually enjoys the meal replacement bars,” Sam is sharing right when Steve comes into the house, skin flushed from the sparring and the work of taking down the tree. He pauses inside the door and lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe at his forehead in a move that’s only sexier because it’s so innocently done. 

Sam hopes he doesn’t look as dopey as Coulson as he takes in the picture, and can’t help but spare a thought to how nice it would be to be able to shower together right about now. 

“Is he picking on my culinary tastes again?” Steve directs his question to Daisy as he enters the kitchen space. “Just because I’m not interested in his fancy stuff —”

“Roasted root vegetables is not  _ fancy stuff _ ,” Sam injects, playing the faux put-upon role that he always used to take against Steve and Tasha — it’s familiar and nice, actually, to tease each other about something, to feel a fond tinge of nostalgia instead of the fear that’s colored everything lately.

Daisy laughs as Steve’s frown slips into a grin. 

“This looks like it will be good. Thanks,” Steve directs the comment mostly at Sam, and then turns his gaze to Coulson. “Both of you.” 

Agent Coulson nods once in recognition, and Sam smiles because at least Steve is making an effort.

“I can go finish cutting that tree down into firewood, if you want to clean up,” Coulson suggests, raising his eyebrows at Sam to silently ask if he can take care of things from here in the kitchen. Sam nods once, and then Coulson walks into one of the back bedrooms, presumably to change out of his button down shirt and into something more suited for wood chopping.

“I’ll hit the showers,” Steve tells Sam, and then leans in to press a kiss against his mouth. It’s only when their lips are touching that Sam tenses and looks over at Daisy, suddenly self-conscious of having an audience. 

He sees her eyes widen, and then she grins at him and then turns around, letting them have a moment. Steve’s lips are soft and warm even though his skin is cool from the outdoors and the dried sweat, the kind of temperature that makes him want to run his hands over  _ all of it _ , to warm Steve with his own body heat. 

They break apart too soon with a little longing noise that might have come from him, but either way he’s relatively certain that they’re both regretting the lack of privacy that means Steve is getting in the shower alone.

"Good workout," Steve praises Daisy as he leaves the room, dropping a hand on her shoulder before he disappears into the bathroom.

Once Steve is gone, Daisy turns to Sam with a smile so wide, he can barely meet her eyes. 

“How long have you two been together?” 

“A few months,” Sam answers, scratching behind his neck. 

“But you’ve known him for a long time?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Almost two years, actually, of being so close, of a lot of nights on the road.  

“What made you…”

He ducks his head down a little at the memory of kissing Steve for the first time, at the quiet understanding that it wasn’t all him, that it wasn’t all in his head. It wasn’t some big moment, just the realization of what had been there forever. 

“Sorry,” she tells him, all earnest and sweet, when she seems to realize she’s embarrassed him with her quiet enthusiasm. “It’s just really nice to see two people who love each other. My life has been kind of light on romance lately, even the vicarious kind.” 

“Is that by choice?” 

“I’m around Coulson basically twenty four hours a day,” she tells him. “And he…” 

Whatever she was going to say is lost when Coulson walks back out from the bedroom in his undershirt — a tank style — and jeans, headed for the outside. He doesn’t look bad, Sam has to admit, but Daisy’s reaction, the way she quietly stares at him, is hilarious.

“I’ll be about half an hour,” Coulson tells her, and Daisy nods her understanding as she sort of drifts out of the kitchen area and towards the door, like she’s pulled towards him. 

“Okay. Yell if you need anything.” 

He nods, and Sam watches a stillness fall between them as they lock eyes, like Coulson is  _ leaving  _ and not just stepping outside, this palpable intensity that almost makes him blush. 

“Okay,” Coulson responds, his voice barely a whisper, before he slips out the door.

She licks her lips when she turns back towards Sam and smiles sheepishly. 

“What...what was I saying?” 

“You were explaining to me why there’s no romance in your life lately.” And he could see how bad Coulson has it for her, so after that display, it really does require an explanation. 

“I would think that’s pretty obvious. It’s not like I have a chance to meet very many people who aren’t Coulson. And then when I do, they’re already dating each other.” 

Sam can’t help grinning at that.

“And Coulson?” 

“He isn’t interested in me,” she tells him, like this is plainly obvious. “He has a type — these confident, beautiful women that could pretty much run the world, and are...sort of the opposite of me.” 

Sam frowns at that, but he’s learned better than to meddle.

“But you’re into him.”

She licks her lips, and he thinks she’s trying to decide whether to deny it.                            

“I know you probably think he seems too old for me —”

“Steve is technically about ninety five.”

Daisy laughs and drops a little bit of guardedness. 

“He’s maybe the best person I’ve ever known,” she tells him seriously. “We met after he was killed.”

“I thought that was a lie.” 

“No, it was true. He was killed and brought back to life with alien tech.” 

“And SHIELD kept that part secret,” Sam repeats. It's not like bringing a dude back from the dead is beyond the pale, given everything he’s seen in the last few years, but he can’t say he totally buys it. 

“Even from him. They had to. It was...when we met, he wasn’t sure what had happened. We were both trying to find ourselves, and neither one of us has loved everything we found,” she holds up her hand, examining it almost as if a foreign object, “but…”

“But you had each other.” 

“Yeah.” Her voice cracks a little on that, and he can’t even imagine what she’s been through. “And he’s done more for me than anyone else ever has, all while trying his best to save the world. It’s sort of…” She rolls her eyes, like she’s annoyed at her own emotions. 

“Sounds kinda romantic.” 

“It’s lacking a little something,” she answers, forcing a smile. “But there’s no one I’d rather have with me right now.” 

“I know the feeling.” 

She smiles at that, and some of that excited grin returns. 

“Coulson’s gonna be so jealous of you,” she tells him, clearly teasing, and he laughs because he agrees — Coulson is probably very jealous that  _ he _ gets to make out with his favorite superpowered human, while Coulson and Daisy seem to be stuck in a holding pattern. 

That’s not what Daisy means, though, he knows.

“He told me he was a fan of Cap.” 

“That’s  _ such  _ a huge understatement. He has the biggest collection of memorabilia…” She pauses, frowns. “Had. I guess...he doesn’t have it anymore.” And there’s something unfathomably sad there in her face, that realization that home and normalcy are gone, maybe forever. Actually, he knows that feeling well, the way it springs up at the most mundane moments. “But Coulson  _ loves _ superheroes,” Daisy recovers herself, “and Captain America is his favorite.” 

“Somehow I think that’s changed,” Sam laughs, and then laughs harder when Daisy doesn’t get it.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner is a quiet affair — he and Daisy chit chat a little, but Coulson and Steve are both more than a little broody. Or, if he wants to be charitable, maybe it’s more like they’re weighed down by the memories the other raises for them. 

Steve spent a good little while being way too suspicious of Nick Fury, by Sam’s measure, and Coulson seems like a living embodiment of the lies he was so worried about. Except it turns out that the lies were never so bad.

And Coulson, well, Sam doesn’t know the guy well enough to speculate on why he’s so quiet.

After, he and Steve clear the table while Coulson starts washing dishes, and Daisy disappears into the back of the house. 

It’s dark outside, not particularly late, but Sam is exhausted, and it’s been a long time since he and Steve have had a nice bed. So sleeping arrangements are starting to concern him, right as he notices Daisy return to the living room with a small canvas bag, a blanket, and a pillow.

“So you two can share a bed,” she tells him when he tilts his head at her. 

“I’m not going to put a woman out of her bed,” Steve cuts in, and Sam can’t help but smirk as Daisy rolls her eyes at him. 

“I’m not going to make a ninety-year-old man sleep on the couch,” she cuts back. “It’s fine, honestly. You two can share, and it’s the best use of space.”

“Daisy —” Steve cuts in, chivalrous as always, but Sam is pretty much ready to take the gift. He’s a little worried they’re going to spar over it — something Tasha and Steve used to do, actually — when Coulson cuts in. 

“I’ll take the couch,” he says from over by the sink, where he shuts off the water to leave some pans soaking. 

“No, Coulson,” Daisy shakes her head, “I don’t —”

“You need rest, and the couch isn’t comfortable.” 

“Then why would I let you sleep on it?” 

He frowns at her, and Sam can’t help the smile tugging at his mouth as he waits for the inevitable compromise. 

“We’ll share the bed,” Coulson states, not an offer so much as an order, and Daisy looks like she’s going to argue it, when she glances over at Sam and his amusement. 

“Fine.”

And it’s obvious that she just means that she doesn’t want to talk about it in front of other people, but they both still look so uncomfortable and, well, it’s funny. 

Daisy joins Coulson by the sink so they can continue their argument quietly, the two of them washing dishes together as he and Steve sink onto the couch (which really is uncomfortable — hard and lumpy). 

“What are you smiling about?” Steve asks him. He’s been weirdly oblivious to everything going on, and it’s not exactly like him — he’s usually so careful to understand all the interpersonal dynamics in play.

“Those two make for good entertainment. Listen.” 

“Is there some reason you’re uncomfortable about sharing a bed?” Coulson is asking, his voice tight like maybe he’s offended at how hard she’s fighting it.

“No,” Daisy answers too quickly. 

“Then —”

“Is there no reason that you’d be uncomfortable with it?” 

“Of course not,” Coulson answers, also too quickly. 

There’s a tense silence and the sound of dishes being washed and dried, and Sam turns his head to look at Steve, who has broken a smile. 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve acknowledges. “But do you really want to stay up listening to them argue about a bed or —”

“Or,” Sam agrees quickly and rises from the couch.

 

* * *

 

 

When he and Steve wake in the morning, there’s no sign of Coulson or Daisy — just the closed bedroom door announcing that they’ve decided to sleep late. Apparently. 

They sip orange juice in the kitchen in preparation for their regular morning run (and there’s nothing better than running with Steve — the first mile when he takes it slow and keeps Sam’s pace, the second when he starts to speed up and challenges Sam to go ever faster, the third when he picks up speed and Sam gets to watch him and marvel at his abilities). 

It’s while Steve is rinsing their glasses that Sam walks to Daisy and Coulson’s bedroom door and raises his fist to knock — just to let them know where they’re going. 

Before his hand makes contact with the door, he can hear the sheets rustling and maybe a murmur, but everything goes still when his fist lands against the wood. 

There’s a long silent beat, and then he can hear Daisy’s voice. 

“Just a minute!” 

Sam frowns at the door as he listens to some fumbling from inside the room, and then Daisy opens the door, wearing sweats and an oversized t-shirt. Behind her, he can see Coulson’s head peeking over the top of the covers, though he’s turned away from the door. 

“We’re going out for a run,” Sam tells her, narrowing his eyes at her, like he’ll somehow be able to read her secrets if he looks hard enough. 

Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part that there are any secrets to find. Sam’s not really the matchmaking type, but it’s hard not to hope that two people who have it bad for each other might figure it out. 

“Have fun,” she tells him, smiling easily and not at all like someone who was just caught having sex. 

“We will,” he nods at her, and then glances back to Coulson again. “We’ll be an hour. Maybe two.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Behind her, Coulson shifts under the blankets, making it very clear that he’s awake and listening. Sam just nods at Daisy and steps away from the room.

She closes the door quietly as he turns to head outside with Steve, only to get an exasperated smile.

“You’re too involved.” 

“I’m not involved,” he counters. “Like I said, they’re entertaining.” 

“You want them to get together.” 

“She likes him a lot,” Sam replies with a shrug. From where he stands, she should get him if she likes him, and he’s clearly over the moon about her.

Steve just smiles at him, though, something soft, and Sam remembers it — realizing that Steve felt the same, feeling all the parts of his life pop into place. It’s enough to make him want to say fuck running, to go back to the nice big bed.

Instead, he Steve grasps his hand and pulls him out the door.

Today, off a track and in a safe, nicely wooded area, they keep about the same pace, Steve staying slow by his side. Sometimes, it feels like pity when he does it, but today it doesn’t — just like he wants to stay together. And Sam doesn’t mind at all. 

And he  _ really _ doesn’t mind when Steve presses him into the grass, the sun warm against their skin. For a few minutes, at least, it’s easy to forget, to pretend that everything is good.

 

* * *

 

 

 

They’re laughing when they get back to the cabin, refreshed from the outside and the pleasant exertion and the freedom to enjoy each other. Running for fun, anything relaxing, hasn't really been on the agenda for a long time now, and it's nice, probably the best day in recent memory. 

Steve enters the house first, but freezes so that Sam collides with his back. 

"Good morning," he hears Agent Coulson's voice, and peaks around Steve's broad shoulders to see the older man standing just past the kitchen area in his underwear — grey boxers — and nothing else. 

He looks like he wants to crawl inside himself, like he's never been in a more mortifying situation, as a flush crawls from his chest up his neck. It becomes hard to focus on  _him_ though, as Sam's eyes fall to the scar on his bare chest. 

It's right over his heart, huge and pink and knotted over his skin, like he's basically been ripped open and sewed back together, and Sam thinks _no shit_ that guy was seriously dead. Super super dead. He glances over at Steve and sees the same horror, like it’s easy to _hear_ the story but so different to _see_ it the truth of it.

All that realization takes only a few seconds, and it's followed quickly by the realization that Coulson is holding two cups of coffee, clearly intending to take them back to the bedroom, but frozen like a deer in headlights.

It makes him feel like crap that they're standing here staring at his scar, but it feels like he's stuck, with no way to get himself out of the situation.

"Phil?"

It's Daisy's voice, coming from down the hallway, that diffuses the situation, that suddenly seems to enable Sam and Steve to move, that makes Coulson turn away from them and towards her voice. She pops around the corner a moment later, wearing a white button down shirt that Sam would bet money is the same one that Coulson was wearing at dinner last night.

"Hi," she greets the group, looking about as mortified as Coulson. 

Sam waves, kind of enjoying this now that the awkward moment with Coulson is broken.

She pauses nervously and tugs the shirt down, though it’s already thoroughly covering her to mid-thigh.

“We’re, um,” Daisy bites her top lip nervously and then looks over at Coulson. 

“You’re going to take it easy this morning,” Steve supplies for her. 

She grins in return and shoots a hopeful gaze at Coulson. Sam watches as Coulson smiles back at her, probably the first real smile Sam’s seen on his face since they got here, wide and happy in a way that makes Daisy light up even more. 

“We’ll see you for dinner,” Daisy tells Steve, speaking through a wide smile, and then meets Sam’s eyes for a moment before disappearing into the bedroom, followed by an eager Coulson. 

Sam and Steve stare at each other for a moment after the door clicks shut behind the couple, until the whole cabin rattles — just barely — and Coulson moans. 

“Wanna go swimming?” Sam suggests, and he and Steve bolt out the front door to the lake, giving the other couple some privacy and maybe letting them pretend that everything is normal for just a little while longer.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner is nice.

Steve has dropped a lot of his attitude — he’s stubborn, but when presented with the evidence that he was wrong, he can get past his ego well enough. And Coulson is practically a different person, all smiles and no brooding. 

They cook outside on a grill, steaks and corn and some other vegetables, and Daisy regales them stories about her team: language barriers, and one of the Inhumans falling in love with the only human, and the strange, wonderful things that can happen when different people come together. 

After, they sit around the fire pit, lawn chairs pulled into a tight circle

“Do you still hear from them?” Steve asks her the question quietly, and Sam reaches over to set his hand gently on Steve’s knee. It’s hurt to lose contact with as much of the team as they have. Barton can send a message now and then, and Stark has been sending messages all over the news, but it’s been hardest to lose touch with Tasha. 

“Yes,” Daisy nods. “Not enough, but they’re all safe. It’s the one who stayed in SHIELD that we worry about.” 

She looks over at Coulson, who shoots them a wincing smile. 

“If someone discovers that May has been feeding us intel, I’m not sure what they’ll do.” 

Daisy reaches out and touches Coulson’s hand on the arm of his chair, setting her fingers softly over the robotic ones, but she’s so tentative about it that it looks like she’s not sure she’s allowed. Sam watches as Coulson slides his chair closer to hers and wraps his left arm around her shoulders, the both of them breaking into soft smiles that almost make their faces glow.

"What about Fury?" Steve is tentative on the question. It's another hard point, losing all contact with Nick Fury. Sam barely met the man, but he understands the impact Fury had on Steve's life.

Coulson just frowns and shakes his head, like a storm cloud has settled over him, and Sam wonders if Steve is fully cognizant of the fact that a lifetime SHIELD agent like Coulson was probably a lot closer to the former Director.

"I'm sure he's fine," Steve offers, like he  _has_ realized it. 

"Fury has weathered worse," Coulson half-agrees. 

“I'm glad he asked you to take over," Steve tells Coulson. "It sounds like SHIELD has been in good hands,” he directs to the both of them. It's been good for Steve to meet them, Sam knows, to feel that the legacy of SHIELD isn't as tarnished as he's feared. 

“I’ve been trying,” Coulson tells him, so earnest it hurts. “And Daisy, especially, has done a lot to remake SHIELD as the kind of organization I think Peggy Carter would have been proud of.”

She smiles from where she’s nestled under his arm, and Sam glances over to see Steve smile, too.

“I just hope that when all this passes, we can get it back,” she adds.

“We’ll get it back,” Steve asserts, stress on that  _ we _ , and it’s nice to feel that sense of community, to connect with other people who can help them, other people they can help. Much as he’s been happy just to have Steve through all of this, it’s been unavoidably lonely.

There’s a long silence, one that perhaps threatens to ruin their nice day with too many thoughts of what they’ve lost and of the struggle ahead, that threatens to invite the storm inside. 

“I bought marshmallows,” Coulson says, interjecting into the moment and getting a small laugh from Daisy. 

“So you’re finally gonna roast marshmallows with me?” 

“That was my plan,” he answers, raised eyebrows and a tiny smile. 

Daisy’s eyes dance as she takes him in, as the light of the fire flickers over her skin, and she throws Sam a half-self conscious look before she leans in and presses a kiss to Coulson’s mouth. 

Coulson looks surprised but thrilled when she pulls back, and Sam has to force himself to look away, over to meet Steve’s eyes. 

“You were right. They’re very entertaining,” Steve teases, and then they’re each smacked in the face by a marshmallow. 

And they can’t hide forever — they all know it, that they have to go back out and fight the good fight — but it feels like gathering strength as Sam impales his marshmallow and holds it over the fire. 


End file.
